‘The longing for a distant place also necessarily involves a separation in time.’
In case you're wondering where you are today: 25,800 light-years from the Galactic Centre, zipping along at 227 km/s – that's 508,000 mph. Hold on to your hat. (details: https://t.co/tHAyG3S8Hz) pic.twitter.com/d4YBP81dP6
Last evening, Dear Reader, Cade Fon Apollyon and I remote viewed an old movie from 1972. I hadn’t seen ‘What’s Up Doc?’ since I was a teenager, lying on the front room carpet, surrounded by family, watching it on the telly…
*Igneous rock teaching humans how to sing… /deep drag… And Judy was my mother’s name… /flicks ash… Plus all the 4th wall breaking… /plumes smoke…*
… It got me to thinking about John Lamb Lash’s Fallen Goddess Scenario, an how homesick the Aeon Sophia probably feels…
*Whether she was tripped, jumped or fell from the Galactic Centre, the Gnostics referred to Sophia’s fall as an ‘accident’, Clicky… /clears throat…*
… How many billions of years she would have traveled, and will still have to travel to reach her home…
*Oh yeah, Lashy mentioned a dragon… /stubs butt… Cosplay’s the thing…*
*Pfft… /rolls eyes… That election was rigged as fuck. Blatant…*
*Um… /thinks… I fink you mean censure knot censor… /pats snout… I guess it’s a similar effect for President Trump, Clicky. With a touch of underdog… /winks…*
… Ooh, that reminds me, Dear Reader. A couple of weeks ago, Leg Iron Books published all my Underdog Anthology stories in one volume…
… Currently it’s ranked 32,656 in ‘Erotic Literature & Fiction’ at Amazon…
*Jus’ free pence short. Yikes! My first ever royalties…*
… The Underdog Anthology, numero XIII is due out this weekend. I have a brand new story in there. It’s a follow-up to ‘What Time Do You Finish?’…
Today we have a missive from Cade Fon Apollyon, the Okie Devil from Text US for you to enjoy. Butt first, I just have to share something with you that crossed my Twitter feed this morning. Something that caused a minor pee-seepage incident…
*What? …/lights up… I’m an old girl now… /drags… Too much information? …/plumes smoke… Just play it, Clicky, you’ll see. No wait… /crosses legs… Ready…*
^Albannach – The Gael (Celtic Scottish Pipe Drums Music)^
Wondering if that pic just above is considered pornography. Pornographic?
Salacious?
Took me a sec to actually work out that they are grinding. I initially saw a fingernail moon type of thing, and immediately noticed the fingers touching at the top.
Maybe if her breasts were larger, their jiggliness would be more pronounced/eye catching, and I would have worked out the copulation bit quicker.
Nothing better than getting to the important bits, and quickly.
^Language Lab – Burning Disaster (Groove Armada ‘Bedtime Story’ Mix)^
Is “ascension” to “the 5-D” realm simply a removal of “the fourth wall”?
Lemme splain...
One of the bigger social movements is “Disclosure”.
Coupla ironies that should be obvious right off the bat:
First, Greer did not join the existing SETI organization/SETI Institute…he fractured the SETI idea and created his own clan. I guess his CSETI thing didn’t take off, so he further fractured the fracture by creating The Disclosure Project. Immediately I’m stuck by the fact that, for someone trying to remove veils, he sure appears to be throwing a lot of veils up in the process.
Second, CSETI appears to be a one-man show. When I personally think of “SETI”, I think of a bunch of names…from Carl Sagan, Seth Shostak and Paul Allen to even Stanton Friedman and Robert Zemeckis. Not so with CSETI or Disclosure Project…there is only Greer.
There’s nothing really wrong with creating your own group. Scientists are likely to be a bunch of snobs and are very unlikely to let anyone who is not an initiate in the government architectures participate in their private club. The wallets that are funding these projects are going to either be government interests who rely heavily on security so that enemies are not aware of certain things, or they are going to be private interests who rely heavily on security, so they can patent and license whatever is found so as to make a return on their investment(s).
All that to say, I get why Greer prolly went his own way.
The only way to deal with exclusivity, is to create your own exclusivity. But at the same time, this Disclosure Project doesn’t seem very forthcoming. In fact, they seem to do the same bullshit as everyone else in that they attract people to their group with cheesy nuggets, then dangle carrots as if they have all of this secret information, but only they and their inner circle(s) know it. Keeps their members marching, and they’ll tell you “the secret stuff” when they are good and goddamn ready to.
Let's get back to removing the fourth wall.
^Cake – Comfort Eagle (Late World with Zach)^
Me and a certain someone watched a movie last night called Chasing Amy.
I’ve seen the movie many times, but she had not. “Veils” features heavily in the movie. Some veils are thrown up intentionally by the characters, and some veils exist that the characters don’t even know are there. But they are slowly pulled back over the course of the movie, and some of the horrors revealed are…yeesh.
Hellish.
So this morning when I wake, there is a video sitting in my YouTube “recommended”, and it centers around? Yep…you guessed it, veils and removing them.
^The Undertaker Takes Care of Business While Eating Spicy Wings | Hot Ones^
Whilst we are on the subject of veils being added more than removed, did you know that the Arecibo observatory is going to be demolished?
Sometimes the old centralization models just don’t work anymore. Gotta throw up some new ones. Tear down the old fence or wall, only to reveal that another has been erected. What does any of this have to do with ascension or 5-D or veils? Welp, height and depth have limits…right? All dimensions have limits. If you remove one veil, you are sure to find another. Ascension from here, is simultaneously a descent into somewhere else. May wanna keep that in mind as you climb. May make your landing a bit more cushy when you reach the bottom. Or maybe not cushy, but at least you’ll know it’s coming.
^The Heydaze – New Religion (Audio)^
We getting on the same page yet as to how “5-D” is (potentially) simply a removal of the fourth wall?
We’re still stuck on the same boat, you just prefer if you could be moved from steerage to first class. A change in scenery to make the journey a bit more comfy. Ship is still gonna dock in the same port tho. Unless of course first class isn’t good enough and you want to replace the navigator or maybe even the captain with yourself.
^Dutilleul – Dark Room Full of Lonely People [BLACKHAND]^
The thing is, if you remove a dimension, are you really getting more? Or less? The same? Perhaps a new spin on the same? Yes, it’ll be new to you. Some lovely new something to amaze, bedazzle and amuse you in the here and now. But that new something is gonna be “the standard” to those who follow. They’ll have to seek their own new and different something, and are likely to topple your lovely paradigm in the process.
^Lusine – Just A Cloud^
Standards exist to better identify slackers, and better reveal impostors.
I little bit letterboxish but I liked it so here it is. Mark Zelmer is the painter. He’s from Washington State and looking at his photo I think he’s based this on himself. He uses digital as well as traditional techniques. Like this one it’s brooding! pic.twitter.com/4aIXYpvzyJ
You really don’t think all that regalia is there just for show do you? I mean, it is, but it says something. It creates a method of distinguishing the acceptable from the unacceptable.
^Bon Iver – Holocene (Official Music Video)^
You realize this “educate yourself” nonsense is a prolly a scam…right?
Someone tells you “you need to look into this”, you’re now stuck in that “can’t afford to, can’t afford not to” kinds of situations.
We wanna know secrets. We wanna be on the inside. We wanna head off trouble. But if they give you an answer, or point you in the correct direction, they may only get single hit out of you.
Much higher returns if they can set you to spinning and get you to chase your tail on their trail.
Next time you ask a question, and one of these “in the know” fuckers tells you to “EDUCATE YOURSELF!!!”, might wanna consider that they are potentially trying to lead you down a trail of tears.
Its very efficient because there is a lot of logic involved.
Some knowledge is indeed best come into on your own, via your own path and at your own pace.
Someone tells you something, the process is gonna be much different than if you had sought out the info yourself and formulated your own opinions on the matter.
Be safe. Travel well.
^Phosphorescent – “Song for Zula” (Official Audio)^
We find things via eachother.
What would you do with yourself if things didn’t exist.
The dragon sits upon a mountain of gold.
Can only wonder what they are waiting for.
Also wonder who built the lair.
If the dragon waits for me, I must ask myself why I am penetrating the dragon’s lair.
For the gold?
For the companionship?
For the story?
Maybe the dragon knows.
^M83 – Lower Your Eyelids To Die With The Sun^
Just saw a video clip where a press conference the US Vice-President was giving had ended, and the VP was walking out of the room. As he did, some of the reporters were screaming at him. They didn’t sound to be shouting questions, as much as they were shouting accusations and/or chanting slogans and maybe even shouting personal attacks.
Very cringeworthy.
I only watched the video once, and the video was quite short so not exactly a lot of context there as to what was transpiring and why. The clip itself sure told a story of something shameful going down. Hell, VP Pence may have just called the press corp a pack of cocksuckers for all I know. Kinda doubt it tho.
^Love And Rockets – Earth, Sun, Moon^
Think a bit about how our bodies adapt to things we do and/or things we encounter. Have you given it a think? Got a few things in mind? Cool. Lets us add some context.
Morgellon's
Now, let’s re-ask that same original question…Think a bit about how our bodies adapt to things we do and/or things we encounter. Got anything new on your own list now? If not, lemme add some of my own.
When I was a kid, I tried like hell to wear as few clothes as possible. However, the clothes that I did wear were a combination of hand-me-downs, home-made clothing, or cheap shit bought a K-Mart, Sears and JC Penney’s. Clothes back then were made of fiber(s), and those fibers likely differ somewhat from the fibers of today.
When I was a teen, I tried like hell to shave as little as possible. However when I did shave, my razors were hand-me-downs, shared blades, and the shaving creams, soaps and aftershaves were cheap. Shaving products of the time were made of certain metals and chemicals via various processes, and they likely differ somewhat from the metals, chemicals and processes of today.
NEW! - IMPROVED!
Things change. You change. You change clothes, clothes change, clothes change you. You wash those clothes, loads of fibers go down the washing machine drain, some are caught in the lint basket of the tumble dryer, some…well, some prolly get all over you. Yeah sure, you bathe. But we’re talking aggregate here. The right thread, in the right place, at the right time. Odds are actually pretty good I think. We spend a lot of time wearing clothes. We sleep on sheets and cover ourselves with blankets. We dry ourselves and our flatware/silverware with cloths. We use a lot of paper products too. And boy oh boy do those materials change over time. Organic fibers, less organic fibers, blends, non-organic fibers.
Q: How long you figure those fibers from Kevlar vests are gonna linger?
A: Fiberglass is concerning as well. Yeah sure, asbestos has supposedly gone away, but in reality, it hasn't.
Learning about certain realities can be a bit shocking. We (some of us) tend to panic. Do some crazy drastic shit without thinking the consequences of our actions through, and we wind up perpetuating the very type of behavior we are supposedly trying to get rid of. Presented with a one-in-a-lifetime, perfect opportunity to fix a something, and the drastic action(s) that sound so good and pure and heroic, actually make things worse.
Le sigh.
^Mazzy Star – Into Dust^
Remember when you were a kid, and you’d get that weird static/electric feeling on your skin? It was almost like you could feel electrical patches running around your skin, the hairs may have stood up, and you may have even got goose-pimples? Maybe the skin on your head pulls up tight and the hair on your head tries to stand up?
Q: Do you ever get that feeling anymore?
A: ???
I’m gonna bet the answer to that question is a resounding, no. I’d almost be willing to further bet that you’ve forgotten ever having such sensations.
What about butterflies in your stomach?
Weird lightheadedness with any rapid aspect change in your body’s orientation? Not really dizziness, nor any kind of nausea, nor even disorientation, but that weird feeling that this rapid aspect change in height, width or depth has somehow altered your perception(s)?
How about pains in adulthood that trigger memories of similar or same pains from childhood. Ever get any of those?
And those chills in the back of the neck? May have been some shooting kinds of chills and/or shivers down the back and maybe the arms? Maybe some shivers followed, and they had nothing to do with cold?
While we’re on the subject, how about that weird “KA-ZOINKS!” kind of feeling when you encounter a guy or gal who really flips your lid for some reason. Ever get those feelings anymore? And I’m not talking about someone you instantly want to fuck. I’m talking about that feeling that you just entered the presence of some special someone. Although yeah, at some point your mind races and you may also have the desire to bang them like a drum. Or maybe not…maybe just a fast-friend.
We change. We forget. Question is, how does it serve us to forget? May also give some consideration as to those things which may be contributing to your forgetting. Just don’t ponder too much on what dragging pieces of metal over your skin does over time. Or what wearing clothing covered in anti-static agents does to your skin over time. Or what the constant and perpetual dousing of your skin with chemicals does over time. To think about such things is…crazy.
^The National – Bloodbuzz Ohio (Official Video)^
Supposedly, Saturn ate his own children. Kinda occurs to me that this is exactly what is happening in the Matrix movies. At the end of the first flick, where the Neo character says he’s gonna show the people “a world without you”, he’s basically threatening to kill the children of men. And what are the children of men?
The machines are, dummy.
Humans created them. Sure, Morpheus and Company didn’t themselves actually create the machines, but humans did. You’ve basically got orphan on orphan warfare going on in the Matrix flicks, and everyone is struggling the be the parent.
(accomplished by one pack of orphans murdering the fuck out of the other)
^Manchester Orchestra – The Silence^
So if that fourth wall comes down, it’s more likely that you are being watched, more than you are likely to be watching. You tune in, think you’re being all sneaky, your target has no idea you are watching them.
Never occurs to you that someone may be watching you watching them. Or maybe you do know, but don’t care.
Germane she said.
Ger m ane
Ger man e
Germ Mane
Crown
Do M
They’re coming hard.
Or at least giving the appearance of it.
Looks more like panic to me.
Panic and anger.
Maybe some self-loathing and regret mixed in there.
^Simian Mobile Disco – Hustler^
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.
❤
^Andrew Gold – Thank You For Being A Friend (Official Music Video)^
… Yes, the Okie Text US Devil has finally arrived at 53, and he’s sent us a missive. So settle back and enjoy! 😀
*******
Hey Guys!
Hay Guise!
Hey Guys!
Hague Eyes!
Hey Guys!
Hey Guise!
^The Smiths – The Smiths – The Headmaster Ritual^
You ever get that strange feeling that something is…not right? Something is askew. Amiss. Not necessarily anything particularly nefarious, just…missing. Whatever it is isn’t there, so you can’t actually see what is missing, in order to know what is missing. There’s just a hole or void. You begin to rack your brain as to what that big empty space is. Where’d that nothing come from? What did that nothing replace? Yeah, there’s something there now, but it is nothing, so what was there previously?
I’ve been (somewhat actively) on Twitter for coming up on four years now. I don’t follow a whole lotta people, and even less people follow me. I don’t look for people to follow, I don’t follow famous people*, which means that virtually everyone I follow, I kinda know. Or at least, I have a pretty good idea as to why that person/account caught my eye….I know why I followed that person/account…and yeah I don’t really know them. I likely read their tweets, I like to acknowledge tweets sometime just to let that someone know that someone out there actually saw and read their tweet, I tend to notice when a someone hasn’t tweeted in a while, I notice when someone stops tweeting entirely, and I tend to notice when someone follows me or unfollows me.
Blocks? Not so much as they tend to by accounts you don’t follow and/or don’t who don’t follow you. Shadow-bans? Again kinda tricky to notice since they aren’t actually blocking you. Mutes? Again not so much since (ironically) people on Twitter tend not to engage others in discussion or debate, or are weird about how they acknowledge you. But when someone deletes their account? Yeah, you gotta dig a bit to find this out this is why an account has disappeared, but you do notice (if you are paying attention anyway).
So when you find out that some interesting someone has vanished from your Twitter feed, you look and see that they are no longer following you, and worse, you are mysteriously no longer following them?
FUCK!!! THEY BLOCKED ME!!!
Or they’ve shadow-banned me. What in the hell did I say that offended them?! Then you do some digging, find out that…”oh, they’ve deleted their account, fuck”, then you notice that they appear to have been more or less the center of some kind of conversational tempest with a few people just prior to deleting their account.
😦
*I tend only to follow accounts that 1) catch my eye because of some interesting tweet they’ve made which somehow winds up on my feed (usually artsy-fartsy types), 2) is a topical something on a subject that interests me, or 3) is just some random something in the moment which has no rational explanation. All that to say, I don’t really seek out accounts to follow, and certainly not personal accounts. This whole “following” thing still kinda gives me the creeps. Makes me feel like someone is following me. Or worse, I’m following someone.
/yeesh
^Failure Band – Golden^
In ye olden days, e-nerds would have called this “a rage quit” or maybe said “they got flamed” or “they were owned/pwned/quiz0wned”. Someone gets so angry or frustrated that they bail on a forum discussion or chat conversation or bail on an online game or whatever e-activity they were involved in. Maybe even abandon a community entirely, delete their account, vanish forever. Or at least, vanish under that particular identity. There are even people out there who intentionally stir up shit for this very reason. They want to encourage others into a rage quit.
Really don’t know what happened in this particular case. Just know that a Twitter account is gone, there are signs that there may have been a kerfuffle of some kind which led to this account being deleted, and it sucks that they are gone. All that said, letting go is sometimes the right thing to do. The Twitter world is a bit more dim now, but they appear to be looking out for themselves, and that’s a good thing.
Cya around maybe
^love and rockets – an american dream^
Etiquette is whatever we make it. Standards are whatever we make them.
We also choose whether or not to adhere.
Whether or not to pursue those who do not adhere.
^Pale Saints – Sight of You (Official Video)^
I’d hope that people “follow me” on social media because they have some kind of interest in me. Not just and only because of some group that I belong to, or because of some social construct that I claim to support, or because my interactions appear to tow a particular line, etc..
Prolly just a pipe dream.
A wet one of course.
Idealistic.
Idealism.
^Pixies – Velouria (Official Video)^
!!!MOVIES REVIEW TIME !!!
Yes...plural
Ravoo A: Myself and a certain someone watched a flick yesterday called “LA Story”.
When the movie was over, best I could sum it up was “that movie was WAY ahead of its time”. Now that I’ve had a bit to think about it, it occurs to me that the movie was ahead of its time mainly because it used bits from Shakespeare’s Hamlet. Now, I gotta clarify here that “ahead of its time” because LA Story reintroduces the concept of mysticism. Somewhere along the way, “mysticism” appears to have been replaced with “supernatural”, and now everything mystical has to be accompanied by fact, otherwise its just myth of the completely fake and totally unsubstantiated variety. Anything without proof or some concrete and shareable/relatable something is almost certainly false. Hordes of people all over the globe are chasing all this weird shit that is happening, but none of it is real. ‘Tis an unusual concept to ponder…all mystical experiences must be a unified thing, otherwise, they don’t exist. I guess some people don’t like to feel they are being left out. And hey, I can relate. All these fuckers are seeing gods and aliens and ghosts and cryptids, and I personally ain’t seen shit.
Makes a fella skeptical
Ravoo B: Today watched a something called “The Game”.
Pretty sure I’ve finally figured out why I tend to hate much of 1980’s and 1990’s cinema. Everyone is fragile, and these fragile people are ALWAYS on the cusp of violence. Anything will set them off, and I do many anything. The slightest of hiccups will fracture that calm, cool, collected and highly polished veneer. To make matters worse, violence is the only answer. The only solution. No one, and I mean NO ONE, sucks it up and takes it on the chin. Very eye for an eye…’cept it’s usually more like “please me, or else”.
Something else that I notice about 80’s/90’s cinema? It follows a very similar model to music of the same time…the quiet/loud/quiet or loud/quiet/loud. Everything, is peaks and valleys. Nothing but peaks and valleys. Rises and falls are almost irrelevant. The point of getting on the ride, is to get to the end. The first part of the 1st act is important, the end of the 3rd act is important, but everything in between is just space for timed silence and noises that validate the premise and conclusion.
^Pixies – Monkey Gone To Heaven (Official Video)^
Rage is more likely to be the fat end of the wedge.
Fury is more likely to be the thin end.
Either way, you’re still swinging an axe.
Or a maul.
Or a hammer if you are old school.
^Cocteau Twins – Cherry-Coloured Funk (Live at Black Sessions).^
I’ve been abducted by aliens twice.
First time, some aliens grabbed me and took me to their home planet.
Second time, the aliens that abducted me the first time, paid some other aliens to abduct me from their planet, and bring me back to Earth.
^U.S. Girls – Overtime (Alex Frankel Remix)^
Monty died.
😦
Seeya around girl.
^Missing Persons – Noticeable One^
It would appear that some are sometimes confused when I write about the contents of a video, then post the video in question, without always specifically stating that “this block of text references the video below”. It is with this in mind that I wish to pose a question…
Q: How were Antarctic Nazis poisoned by polar bear meat?
A: ???
I once read in a USAF survival manual to neverto eat polar bear liver because it will kill you due to the ridiculous amount of iron stored in a polar bear’s liver, but there are no polar bears in Antarctica. Yes, I realize they prolly brought the meat with them, but what a fucking logistical nightmare, eh? Travel way the fuck north, kill a bunch of polar bears for their meat, haul it down way the fuck south.
And die for your trouble
^5 Creepy Deep Sea Anomalies That Can’t Be Explained^
You are looking for external things. You are looking at external things.
Fair enough
Might…maybe…wanna give some thought as to how these external things line up with things internal to you.
Lets, as a hypothetical, suppose that you are searching for the Holy Grail.
Q: How does the Holy Grail align itself to your inward wants/needs?
A: ?╗¿╚?
Not only that, but what does this particular alignment do with/to/for the rest of your internal goodies, and how do they now line up with external things. If the focusing of one set of mirrors, fucks up the alignment/clarity of the rest of your mirrors, your path may become unclear. Or maybe even so fucking clear that you can’t see it.
Its a tough question to ask oneself for sure. We are multidimensional beings who require all kinds of diverse and far-ranging things in order to survive.
^U.S. Girls – And Yet It Moves / Y Se Mueve (Official Video)^
Watched a talk of his once where he opened the talk by taking an entire bottle of homepathic medicine in order to demonstrate what a bunch of bunk homeopathic medicines are. It was at that very moment, that something dawned on me regarding astrology, power, potency, and…dosing.
Q: Why would God, or a god, or some powerful ethereal being not wanna hang with mortals.
A: King Kong & toxicity
Now, for those who are familiar with any of the King Kong flicks, you will know that King Kong actually had a capacity for being somewhat gentle in the handling of humans when he wanted to. But when those rage vibes were flowing, not so much. But what I really got to thinking about was how some tiny and seemingly inconsequential something could possibly have a profound affect on one’s own life. This made me think of how in the Bible that its typically not a good idea to be in God’s presence because they appear to sometimes have some difficulty dialing their shit back. Made me wonder how a something could be put into place where powerful stuff wasn’t so overwhelming and potentially destructive.
Like say...lead
Or maybe even gold or iron, or kevlar. Maybe even a bunch of swirling tumbling crap that serves to somewhat negate or offset more direct hits by energy or matter upon another energy or matter. What does any of this have to do with tiny somethings creating massive change(s), or massive and powerful things figuring out how to be more gentle with less powerful things? I dunno. Maybe you can assign yourself some homework and think of some things on your own. You don’t want me to do all of your thinking for ya, do ya?
^Belly – Gepetto (Official Video)^
“The first thought is usually the correct one.”
Q: If this is so, will one who tends to be wrong all the time become conditioned to be dismissive of any “first thoughts”?
A: //?\\
I’ve read that either truth or conditioning usually lead to “the first thought” one may have. Makes me wonder as to how conditioning can, itself, be conditioned. How truth can be conditioned. Better thoughts. Best thoughts. Still, I must question myself as to how I wound up in a situation where all of my first thoughts, are the wrong ones. Are always wrong. No first thought is ever satisfactory. Perhaps I’m relying too much upon others to dictate to me the right and wrong of things?
/shrug
^one perfect sunrise – orbital^
You know more about “there”…than you know about, “here”. How is this possible?
How did there, become so knowable from here.
Why is here so unknowable.
Surrounded, here, by almost infinite things to know, and yet, you know little to nothing of here.
You focus not on here.
You spend your time here, dreaming of there.
Hrm...something is amiss
^Philip T.B.C. feat. C.Monts – Back To The Batcave (Topspin Remix)^
… 18 tales in total. Who knew I had that many in me…
*Nah, me either, Clicky… /pats snout… I bloody well hope I’ve got some more…*
… I’ll let you see the cover artwork when it’s ready, Dear Reader 😀
But enough of that; now we have a missive from Cade Fon Apollyon with his thoughts and reflection from the past week. It’s been very exciting and turbulent in ‘Merica…
*Seriously, Clicky, that only works if you can imagine Donald Trump as Sandy…*
Enjoy! 😉
*******
Dehsharm
Diss Harm
Dis Arm
Deh Sahrm
Disarm
^Stars Of The Lid – The Evil That Never Arrived^
Many things exist to disarm us.
A nice smile.
A kind word.
A good deed.
Perhaps a miscue, a misstep, or some display of ignorance or innocence.
Maybe even a defect or disability.
A uniqueness.
An offering of some kind…to keep one…from conflicting with another.
An offering of some kind…to keep one…from taking advantage of another.
Establish a decorum or a level of respect.
Disarmament
^Julie And Candy^
We are powerful beings after all. We aren’t always aware of just how powerful we are or how powerful we can be. As a result, sometimes, we are not the best at exercising restraint. It is at these precise times, when Nature steps in.
Disarms us…gives us pause…allows us a brief interlude to reflect and maybe rethink.
Sometimes anyway
Sometimes…She appears to, Herself, exercise restraint. Allows us and our own hubris to march ourselves directly into peril.
Bear with me. I just watched two documentaries, both kinda far out and seemingly on two completely different topics, but I really didn’t see a scrap of difference between them. Two flicks about people learning how to act, presumably in order to manipulate others in order to get what they want from them. However at 1:40:17 into the second documentary, there was a name mentioned that I absolutely did not expect to hear with respect to a movie about 1960’s Hippies taking their green ideas corporate.
I guess it was kinda weird to hear that name, because only recently I learned that Bannon is supposedly big on Strauss–Howe generational theory. First he’s running the right-wing rag Breitbart, then he supposedly is kingmaking with Trump 2016, Cambridge Analytica/Brexit, and now it turns out he was mixed up with Ed Bass and Biosphere 2? This dude has his fingers in everything. This revelation prolly wouldn’t be so weird if that NXIVM cat hadn’t been sentenced just the other day.
One of the connections here is that the people involved with Biosphere 2 were/are labeled as cultists. They are/were outside of the mainstream scientific community, had their own thing going, and as a result they were outcast. But these Biosphere folk were members of at least four other very popular and well-known cults, but no one likes to talk about these cults as being…cults.
The Cult of Advertising
The Cult of Voyeurism
The Cult of Acting
The Cult of Capitalism
They’re also members of The Cult of Humanity, but we’ll let that one go since we are focusing on Bannon and how he eventually came to run that whole Biosphere circus.
Q: What was found during the course of this Biosphere 2 project which inspired Ed Bass to change direction so quickly?
A: Media/Marketing is my guess.
Yeah sure, this project probably taught us a lot about the challenges that long-duration space exploration missions will eventually face. It is highly possible that Bass found something that was both patentable and licensable, wanted to keep it/them a secret in order to secure his intellectual property/properties, and so Bass brought in a pit bull to guard it.
But considering what a media circus that Biosphere 2 project was, and considering the number of outside parties that were brought in to consult on the project, I’d think that media utilization, media manipulation and how to influence and/or drive public opinion(s) was the real motherlode. Especially as it relates to really far-out and obscure topics. How to force the old ideas out, and bring in something new.
^Sufjan Stevens – Untitled (piano)^
Do you ever act? Put on a face? Act contrary to how you actually feel? Any ideas as to why you may do this?
Hail Satan? = Full of actors and acting
Spaceship Earth = Full of actors and acting
‘Tis rough showing the soft underbelly of self. Might be some vicious ass-hat out there just waiting for you to drop your guard, and BOOM!
Scarred for life
You shoulda known better. You did know better. But for the briefest of moments, you believed.
^dwig – different days^
Oh, and whilst we are on the topic of cults and cultists…John Lamb Lash had a damn weird “talk” released yesterday. Seemed to be on the topic of institutionalized sex education, but the talk seemed to be less about Elohim giving classroom type instruction, and focused more on the practical demonstration/demonstrable side(s) of “sex education”.
OJT, if you will
What made this talk even more bizarre, was that it seemed to focus on the ancient sexual education(s) of…teenagers. Teenagers? Did ancient peoples even have such a distinction of “teenagers”? I’ve always been under the impression that, in ye olden tymes, humans went straight from childhood to adulthood, and no such middle ground (teens) existed. Made me raise an eyebrow as to potential faults in modern trappings being associated with ancient modalities.
Also made me think…wait, there are metric fucktons of 30+ years old people, in this world here and now, who know fuckall about sex, and prolly know even less about intimacy. Or at least, that’s what we’re told. We’re told that this modern world we live in is full of sexual inadequacy, we’re told that sexual dissatisfaction is one of the primary reasons that relationships fail, and yet mysteriously there’s no shortage of sexual accessories, add-ons, training programs, and sexual information available to supposedly help remedy this dilemma. Not to mention that we are also told that we live in a time of rampant sexual deviancy, sexual depravity, and basically complete and total sexual lawlessness. In social media, pedophile rings, human trafficking and sexual slavery are all the rage.
Something doesn't add up here
^Mysterium^
You’ve got a “Gnostic Teacher”, who is giving a bunch of “introductory talks” about I guess both Gnosticism, his own personal school, the flavor of Gnosticism that he personally teaches, one of these talks he devotes to the subject of “sex”, and he goes straight for the youth? I guess he’s using the standard modern marketing model(s) or something. Hitting the youth market first since that’s the real cash-cow. But I can’t see a bunch of teenagers lining up to learn about Gnosticism. Not even twenty-somethings. I have trouble imagining that even thirty-somethings would have any interest in Gnosticism.
Wait
Is he about to suggest that Gnosticism has the answers to all of these sexual questions that we modern people have?
In a way, it’s kinda refreshing to think that someone would think about addressing the topic of sexuality within some religious framework where the topic wasn’t simply “Sex: Don’t Have It Until You Are Married!” /lesson over”. But “teens”? Why is “teens” even a demographic within this particular Gnostic framework? Only thing that I can come up with is that this has to do more with pornography than anything. Maybe advertising too.
^Christopher Willits – Comet^
It’s been my experience that, anyone who is talking about mystical power and mystical powers, and proclaiming these powers exist?
Yeah...they're skeptics
Maybe closet skeptics, but they’re skeptics. They’re more likely to be attempting to disprove them more than prove them. Poking at the ethereal planes to see if they are indeed real. Not knowing what to expect, and not exactly sure how they’ll handle the experience if this mystical something turns out to be much more tangible than they previously thought. This is prolly why stories surrounding things like the Philosopher’s Stone, Pandora’s Box, Midas Touch, etc., are typically cautionary tales. Someone is skeptical about some power, they tempt fate, find out the power is real, everything goes to hell from there.
Usually anyway
But yeah, most individuals have to actually be burned by the mystical fire(s) before they are going to believe. We humans are both skeptical and at the same time very tactile/curious/exploratory creatures, which, when you think about it, is an odd combination of traits to coexist in the same space. But sometimes maybe some can just accept that, irrespective of whether these powers exist or not, they are not yours to wield, they never will be, and just deal with that/those fact(s) and go about your life.
Word To The Wise: This is sometimes precisely when life will hit you with a twist.
^Sigur Rós – Varúð^
This world is not about finding things that disarm us.
We don’t see the things meant to disarm us as being disarming.
We look for weakness in order to take advantage of it.
We look for difference in order to exploit it.
Diversity, is a revenue stream.
I’ve no idea how things were.
I only know how things are.
Relying in totality on some singular ancient something to guide me in the here and now?
Welp, why in the fuck would I want to do that?
If I need some ancient something to guide me, I got this planet right here, under my feet.
Supposedly, it’s pretty fucking ancient.
The stuff that our planet is made of?
Supposedly, it’s even more ancient.
^Huerco S. – A Sea Of Love^
Yes…I’m lost.
But I ain’t that fucking lost.
And if I’m looking for anything, “truth” sure as shit ain’t it.
When you align yourself to one side or another, everything becomes fringe.
Everything else anyway
Where you stand is not fringe at all.
To you anyway
To all those in the fringes tho?
Yeah...you, are fringe
^Brian Eno – An Ending (Ascent) [1080 HD]^
It’s beaten into us “to do something”. Someone out there, wants to hurt us, and something must be done about it.
Q: Why must I do anything?
A: ? !!!!!!! ?
If for some reason, someone has it in their mind to cave my skull in, fuck it…let em’. Was I put here on this Earth for the sole purpose of fighting against this someone? I don’t think so. Sounds more like their plan than my own. They need an enemy, and they found one in me. Do I play along? Or is it OK with you fuckers if I come up with my own plan(s)? Carry on with my own life? Either way you slice it, your logic in conflict management equates to the same damn thing…I, irrespective of outcome, am their personal plaything. They, get to dictate my behavior, and not me.
Hrm
^Somewhere Up Here^
Wanna know how to tell if someone in a YouTube video is full of shit? Just watch their mannerisms. If they are talking about some ancient something, and they are overly expressive in verbal accentuation of certain things? Using a lot of hand motion? Many changes in facial expressions and/or little to no change in facial expressions? Lots of crazy graphics changes that do not necessarily follow the text of the video? Lots of carrots and rabbit holes/loads of questions with no answers? Yeah…some or all of these likely point to the video being bullshit. Not necessarily wrong, or maybe not even inaccurate, but still bullshit. Maybe someone rehashing some old something without adding anything new, and doing so for the purposes of making a few bucks. Lot of that going on currently, and not just and only on YouTube.
Nothing wrong with people finding their own voice. Honing their craft. Even the oldest of stuff and most known of things is new, mysterious and completely unknown to someone. Trouble is, many forget how to fall. Forget how to stumble. Forget how to be lost. Forget how to cope with, accept, and overcome errors, adversities, setbacks. Forget how to take a punch or absorb a blow. You spend all that time being a complete fuckup, you succeed only at failure, you pick yourself up and keep at it, and yet when you actually find success (or what you consider to be success) the slightest of hiccups or deviations leaves you blank-faced and clueless. Sends you right over the edge. You have polished yourself to such a degree, that even you have begun to believe your own image is…you.
Q: How is this even possible?
A: ?¿?
How, does one, lose their ability to cope? Especially when one has accrued such an impressive resume of failure(s). Maybe as time passes, we let all that old an less than complementary shit conveniently fall off the page.
We’ve moved on.
We’re amongst the learned, knowledgeable and wise.
Part of the elite.
A member of the club.
The club.
Club
^Kid Francescoli – “Moon” (Official Video)^
Just remembered it’s election day in the USA today.
03 November 2020 AD
Maybe that’s another reason I was kinda jarred upon hearing Bannon’s name this morning. Still debating on whether or not I’m gonna vote. I know who I’d vote for, and I also know why. But…wait…um, I just remembered something.
Steer into the skid
Or sometimes, the best course of action is to just let go of the wheel. Yeah, I won’t be voting today.
I wonder who won?
^Telephasic Workshop^
Tis now Saturday November 7th, and still, “the press” is offering up “projections” as to who won. Why in the FUCK are people still relying upon “the press” and their projections 4 days in? Wait for the FEC to publish the election results, then you’ll know for sure without having to rely upon very biased third-parties who keep stringing you along so they can keep you viewing and clicking because their advertising bubbles are limp. What’s that? You really don’t think that MSM has been chomping at the bit for months in order to get a cash infusion from election coverage? Obviously, you’ve not been following this nCoV-2019 thing very closely. Or maybe its that you’ve been following it too closely?
/shrug
We supposedly want all these neato gizmos and gadgets to speed the process(es) along, and yet we damn the living shit out of them when they don’t behave in a manner that is pleasing to us. Something must be wrong.
If "no fraud is found" in any election, its a good sign that something very non-democratic is happening.
Dunno about you, but to me, an absence of irregularities, a lack of of inconsistencies, and a non-existence of errors is a sure-fire sign that something very underhanded is almost assuredly taking place. And I’m not talking about any built-in integrity testing types of stuff. I’m talking authentic stuff. Stuff that is there, but covered up in order to maintain appearances. Project an illusion that everything is okay, even tho things are most certainly not okay. Opens up all kinds of doors to manipulate the system in virtually any way that suits you.
Q: Are you really ready for “faultless”?
A: ??? wait wut ¿¿¿
You’re gonna need to do some soul searching before you are going to be able to accept “faultless” as an actual thing. Evaluate your doubt, evaluate your trust, evaluate your honesty, evaluate your own polarity and your own concepts of right/wrong. Are you diverse enough to do that?
Might wanna find out
^Beach House – Elegy To The Void^
Revelations are sweet
English, as a language, has never made sense to me. Last night, a certain college professor named Wes Cecil, opened my eyes a bit.
Latin = Verbs
It was that fucking simple.
Latin = Verbs
Everything is “do”. Or I guess “done”. Either way, Latin is very verby.
EUREKA!!!
Yes, I realize that English is not just and only Latin. But 80-fucking-percent of it is. I guess the rest is a hodgepodge of Greek and loanwords, and they’re all crammed into this “do” type language.
Do
Done
Do/Do
Doo doo?
Fuckin’ hell…ENGLISH IS SHIT!!!
I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!
^Deadmau5 – Fn Pig (1080p) || HD^
English is actually great. Allows for a great deal of expression. Has a plenty of roadblocks tho’. Sometimes, just ain’t no way to express, in text, what one is feeling. Either the word(s) don’t exist, or the structure of the language does not allow a certain thought or feeling to be communicated accurately to others. One can only surmise that this is likely why e-shorthand or “leetspeak” or similar has become so popular.
Maybe even memes
They convey feeling(s) that can likely be understood by others. From a grammatical standpoint there’s no real “substance” to the communication, and yet, one can express themselves, and more importantly, others can relate. Others can understand. Others may not be able to get an exact fix on where one is coming from, but they do have a pretty good idea as to the general location.
All that said, when Wes mentioned in his talk about Latin being “verb-heavy”, a light went on in my head. Everything, in English, and I mean EVERYTHING, has to be associated with some sort of doing. An action. And this doing is either right now, in the immediate future, or already done.
Hrm...done
It is done.
It is finished.
Event-driven.
Challenge/response.
Newton’s Third.
Cause/effect.
Interrupt requests.
Capitalism.
Say/do.
Slavery.
No fucking wonder we’re having so much difficulty understanding quantum mechanics, chaos theory, string theory, etc.. Even religion(s), spiritual matters Not only is there’s no fucking language to describe these “higher level things”, there’s no language to relate to them. No language to relate them to. There’s high, and low, and no fucking middle. It’s like Inferno and Paradiso, with no Purgatory. Not to switch gears too quickly here, but something big has to be happening in that middle. It’s completely absent. “The Middle”, is gone. That can only mean one thing…it has gotten so massive, that no one can see it.
Hiding in plain sight
^Arve Henriksen – Hambopolskavalsen^
Someone mentioned “Loudon County” to me on election night. It’s a county in northern Virginia. Was weird because the person who mentioned it to me could not have possibly known that I used to live in Loudon County VA. Earlier this morning, “Loudun” appeared on my radar (not to be confused with “Loudon”).
Just now, a song appeared in my playlist. Never heard this song in my life, sounds pretty good, so I switched over windows to see who the hell this was. What immediately caught my eye, was the artist’s last name. Usually, I just listen to music, don’t watch the videos. But this video? I gave it watch.
Not Loudon County, but Herndon is right there by Loudon. When I worked at Dulles, I used to go into Herndon VA and Reston VA to get food. There was a fucking awesome deli in Reston that made incredible subs. I can only wonder if the deli are still there.
Wait…Herndon’s largest employer is…Fannie Mae?
^Ben Buitendijk – Promised Land^
Erm…
You know what the best part about NaziTrump losing is?
The fact that he will soon realize the media doesn't give a shit about him anymore… which will start gradually happening after this is all official next year.
…why did they give a shit about him in the first place? I’m somewhat skeptical of those who are interested in me only because of what I can give them. That said, the media wanted sustenance, and for the better part of five/six years now, Trump & Co seems to have fed them. A never ending Las Vegas style all-you-care-to-eat buffet.
Or, erm, Atlantic City style
Just wondering if they realize they killed their meal ticket. The media must be planning on going on a diet or making some other kind(s) of lifestyle changes.
/shrug
^Tycho – Adrift^
Some people repeat themselves a lot. When they are not repeating themselves, they will resort to repeating themselves…a lot. Then they’ll move on to repeating themselves…a lot. As time passes, they will begin to repeat themselves…a lot. When repeating one’s self no longer serves, it’s time to repeat yourself…a lot.
All that said, and all that said, I guess, I guess anyway, that the point, and I mean the main point, of the video below, the one to follow this text here, is that the greater good, or maybe the greatest good, or yeah just the greater good and not the greatest good, is better served, or better served, or best better served, by…wait, what the fuck are they even talking about in this video?
… called ‘What Time Do You Finish?’. Now, if you like it, Dear Reader, you might want to invest in a copy of the anthology, as it is chocked full with stories far creepier than mine. Enjoy! 😉
*******
What Time Do You Finish?
By Roo B. Doo
It is said that Halloween is the time of year when the veil between dimensions is worn at its thinnest. In the year 2020, when a global viral pandemic, violent rioting and supermarket socially distanced queues dominated everyday life, that boundary thickness could be considered as flimsy as paper medical face mask. Why, an errant finger could easily pierce it.
Shit!
God adjusted the mask across her visage, hoping no one would notice the ragged hole, and also that nothing too nasty had fallen through the breach on her sweet breath.
***
“How the hell am I supposed to know when we are?” Death snapped and glared up from inside the impenetrable blackness of his cowl at the three ominous figures surrounding him. They stood huddled at the junction of Great Russell and Bloomsbury Streets in London’s bustling West End. It was night, it was cold and, save for the motley quartet, the streets were completely deserted.
“Becoz yur Death,” the first figure hissed and bared vampiric fangs. Famine appeared tall and angular, dressed in a tuxedo, silk lined cape, and with a countenance so pale, it could only have been achieved by avoiding sunlight at any and all costs.
“Because you have the contraption,” the second figure added angrily. War appeared to be a smart businesswoman, confident and aggressive, in horn-rimmed glasses, sharp suit and infinitely sharper stiletto heels.
“AAAAAAAGH!” the third figure groaned as a fat, black housefly zig-zagged across a sunken cheek, before disappearing into a filth-caked nostril. Pestilence appeared to be a zombie; slack mouthed, grey decaying flesh and milk white, opaque eyes.
“No, Pesto, I don’t know what happened to the horses,” Death answered his rotting companion. He pulled himself up to his full height of three feet and three inches, retrieved a battered Psion organiser from beneath the folds of his robe, and unsheathed it with a satisfying pop. “I don’t understand it,” he cried, “transport’s always been laid on before.”
War, Famine and Pestilence stood in silence, watching over the diminutive but perfectly formed grim reaper, as he punched the keys of the electronic organiser with a gleaming phalange, and waited.
Click. Click. Click, click, click… click.
“Well?” War said impatiently. “We’re in London, that much is for sure. The British Museum is over there.”
Pestilence’s body did not move a single rotting muscle, but his head turned an unearthly 180° to follow the direction that War’s crimson painted talon was pointing in. “UGH WAAAGH AAAAAAAGH!”
“Ve don’t know if ve are zupposed to go zere.” Famine reached out and clasped either side of Pestilence’s head, twisting it back into a front facing position. “Ve don’t know vy ve are even here. Death, vot iz taking you zo long to find out?”
“Wait…” Death did not look up.
Click. Click, click. Click.
Death peered hard at the tiny screen on the Psion, before shaking it hard. “I dunno. It’s not working. Maybe the Cosmic Consciousness Neural Net is down again,” he said with a shrug.
“Argh!” War howled. She reached down and grabbed Death by the front of his robe and lifted him up to face height. Behind her glasses, War’s eyes blazed with fire. “That’s just brilliant! Ace! Fun-fucking-tastic, Death! What are we meant to do now?”
The dead weight of Pestilence’s arm slapped War on the shoulder. “WAAAGH UGH!”
“Yez, yez, yez, ve should all calm down,” Famine said smoothly, pulling Death from War’s tight grasp and setting him back on the pavement. He plucked Pestilence’s arm from War’s shoulder before she could rip it from its socket. “It does no good for uz to get agitated. Ve need to zink vot haz happened.”
“Exactly right, Famine,” Death injected in agreement. “Let’s look at what we do know.” He pushed himself free of the huddle and turned to face his companions. “We’ve got War, Famine, Pestilence and yours truly.” He began to glide, circling the trio. “The ultimate harbingers of doom and bringers of great tribulation. The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse-”
“AAAAAAAGH UGH!”
“Sans horses, indeed. Most irregular. Literally dropped, without warning, in the middle of London-”
“Clos to ze British Muzeum,” Famine interrupted.
“Correct. So we know where we are but we don’t know when we are-”
“Late twentieth, early twenty first century, I’d say, from the smell of the air,” War joined in. “Plus it’s night time and it’s bloody freezing.”
“A winter’s night, yes. Probably accounts for the lack of any activity about-”
“UGH!”
Death glided to a stop. “Your right, Pesto; there should be people about, even in winter. A big city like this produces lots of traffic-”
“Yez,” Famine mused, loudly tapping on his fangs in contemplation. “No motor vehicles hav passed by since ve arrived.”
Death nodded slowly, then looked up at the sky. One by one, War, Famine and Pestilence followed Death’s gaze.
“Nope, too much cloud cover and light pollution. I can’t see any stars to work out when we are.”
“I have a very bad feeling about this,” War whispered hoarsely.
“WAAAGH AAAAAAAGH!” Pestilence groaned.
“I agree, Pestilence, my dear friend. It haz to be a mistake,” Famine said solemnly. “An accident.”
“Possibly. We’d better start walking,” Death said and glided away down Bloomsbury Street, in the direction of Covent Garden.
War, Famine and Pestilence looked at each other and muttered darkly.
“Hold it, short-arse,” War barked. “Where exactly are we walking to? I can’t go far in these heels. They’re fucking murder.”
Pestilence dropped a shoulder and lurched awkwardly after Death. “AAAAAAAGH WAAAGH AAAAAAAGH!”
“Seriously? You’re going to follow him?” War shouted after the hunched and shambling figure of Pestilence. “You’ll disintegrate before you reach the end of this street, you noxious pile of pus! ”
Famine took War’s hands between his own, bowed deeply and lightly kissed her clenched fists until they opened. “Don’t vorry, my dear lady. I vill speak to Death.” Gently, he tugged on War so that she tottered forward with unsteady steps. “Please, come. Valk slowly. I vill talk to him.” With that, Famine turned into a giant bat and flew off in the direction of Death.
War roared with frustration but continued to follow the others. “I have Birkenstocks, you know. Why couldn’t I have manifested in my fucking Birkenstocks…”
Death heard wop-wopping wing beats approach from behind, and felt the change in air pressure as Famine flew over his head. He glided slowly until he reached his suave compadre, who stood in the middle of the pavement, arms wide, cape billowing and fangs bared.
“Death, stop please,” Famine pleaded. “Vor and Pestilence are in no fit state to valk far. Look.” He gestured back to the way they’d come. Pestilence jerked along slowly in the middle distance, with War following on behind, daintily sidestepping the trail of fleshy ooze left in Pestilence’s wake.
“Death, Death,” Famine cooed, “You know ve vould valk to the ends of ze vorld vid you, but you must tell us, vere are you taking us?”
Death paused and looked up, appraising his companion – Famine: always hungry, never sated, forever empty; his vampire appearance was more than apt. Pestilence, too, in zombie form was unrelenting, poisoning everything, even the very air. War, however, was a puzzler unless she represented a battle of the sexes. Should War shatter the fabled glass ceiling, Death was certain she would then set about slitting every available throat with the deadly shards.
What about me, though? I’m exactly the same, I haven’t changed, Death wondered. The inside of his skull began to itch. He sighed and shook his head. This whole situation was wrong and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was missing something. Something big. Something important.
“Death?” Famine snapped his fingers rapidly. “Vere are ve going?” he demanded.
“To the Embankment, Famine. To Cleopatra’s Needle.”
“Ov course!” Famine slapped the palm of his hand against his widow’s peaked forehead. “Ze ancient Egyptian Obelisks of Time! Ve can return to ze hintervorld by way ov Cleopatra’s Needle! Zat iz super fine zinking, Death. No vonder yur the leader.”
“I-” Death suddenly cocked his head to one side. “Can you hear that?”
There was a low rumble in the distance but it was gradually getting louder, moving nearer. Death and Famine watched as at first, War turned her head to look behind, following the direction of the sound, then Pestilence slowly shuffled round to see what was making the noise. Further back in the distance, Death could just make out a dim rectangle of orange light, floating closer through the darkness, getting brighter. War began to wave her arms and shout.
“AAAAAAAGH!” Pestilence bellowed.
Death and Famine glanced at each other before racing back towards Pestilence and War. “Taxi!” they shouted in unison, tinged of relief.
***
War, Famine and Pestilence sat in abject silence in the back of the taxi; the three separated from Death and the taxi driver in the front by a transparent sheet of plexiglass, with only a narrow slot cut into it for the exchange of money.
Excuse me while I light my spliff…
“Spliff,” the taxi driver sang along to the bassy sound of Bob Marley and the Wailers coming through the speakers.
Oh God I gotta take a lift…
“Lift.” The taxi driver turned toward Death and gave him a beaming smile.
From reality I just can’t drift…
“Drift.”
That’s why I am staying with this riff…
“Riff.” The taxi driver chuckled and tapped his hands on the top of the steering wheel, in time with the music. “Easy Skanking. Hell, I love this song.”
Death looked out of his side window. The feeling that something was wrong had only intensified as the empty London streets rushed by. He cursed the broken Psion organiser tucked inside his robes. Bloody useless technology. Give me an hourglass any day, he thought sourly.
“Good party, was it?” the taxi driver asked.
“Huh?” Death replied, perplexed by the driver’s question.
The taxi driver laughed. “The fancy dress party. Your costumes are sweet. I thought the government had cancelled Halloween because of the Rona.”
Death stiffened and the itching inside his skull increased. “Halloween’s been cancelled?”
“Yeah man, Christmas too if we’re not lucky,” the taxi driver replied.
“What year is… it?” Death asked slowly.
The taxi driver sucked his teeth contemptuously. “What you mean what year is it? It’s 2020, child. Where have you been?”
A burst of realisation exploded through Death’s train of consciousness: It’s 2020: the year anything happened! The year when pandemic waves of Coronavirus and Karenitus swept the globe, resulting in lockdowns, economic disaster and civil unrest. Things are starting to make sense now! Even so, the itch continued to irritate the inside of Death’s skull.
Cigar smoke suddenly filled the front of the taxi. Death coughed and tapped on the sign affixed to the console. “That says ‘No Smoking’.”
The taxi driver grinned at Death, a smoking cigar butt jauntily perched from the corner of his mouth. “2020, child. Donch ya know the saying? ‘A smoke a day keeps the Rona at bay’.” He laughed heartily and bounced up and down in his seat with mirth. “Besides, who’s gonna stop me? Look about you, my small friend. There’s no one around to say shit about it.”
If Death still had eyes, they would have been rolling round his ocular cavities. “Hey guys.” He shouted to the others through the slot in the plexiglass. “Problem solved: it’s 2020.”
“Tventy Tventy! Hellz Bellz!” Famine exclaimed.
Pestilence gave a guttural groan. “WAAAGH UGH AAAAAAAGH!”
“Yes, but what’s the date?” War demanded nervously.
“It’s the 31st October, sugar,” the taxi driver called back. “Happy Halloween.”
The taxi stopped at the end of Temple Place. In front lay the deserted Embankment. Along side it, the river Thames flowed swiftly past, glittering lights shimmered on its rippled surface, as above the clouds began to separate, clear, and finally reveal the celestial occupants of the night sky. The taxi driver nonchalantly flicked a switch on his dashboard, locking all the vehicle doors with a loud clunk.
“Oh no,” War murmured gravely and pressed her hands hard against her stomach. “No, no, no!”
“Vot iz it, Vor?” Famine asked with rising alarm.
A shaft of moonlight hit the taxi as it slowly pulled right out of the junction and onto the empty Embankment, illuminating its interior. The Moon was bright, it was clear and it was very full.
“It’s my monthlies,” War whined, sliding off her seat and onto all fours. Her jaw elongated and wiry tufts of fur sprang from her gnarly brow, knocking War’s horn-rimmed glasses from her face. “I don’t fucking believe this. Why nowOOOO!”
“Now this is a great song. One of the Skipper’s best,” the taxi driver exclaimed, ignoring the howling and growling, and blood-curdling shrieks of panic coming from the back of the cab, as the previously smart and professional War transformed into a ferocious and carnal beast. He turned up the volume on his stereo and began to croon along,
Until the philosophy, which hold one race superior and another. Inferior. Is finally. And permanently. Discredited. And abandoned. Everywhere is war. Me say war.
“Vot? NOOOO! Get avay! Get avay!” Famine screamed and impotently fumbled with the taxi’s doors handles. They were securely locked, however; there would be no escape.
Death sat stock still, strapped in tight and listened in horror to the sound of Famine and Pestilence being ripped apart by the slavering jaws and slashing claws of a werewolf that appeared to be War.
“How’s you seat, child?” the taxi driver asked slyly.
“I’m not a child,” Death tersely replied.
“UGH!” Pestilence’s bloody fingers abruptly thrust through the slot in the plexiglass, twitched once, then lay limp.
“I know, I know, little man. No offence intended.” The taxi driver continued. “That space you’re occupying used to be for luggage, but times are hard and last year it was converted into a child seat,” he explained. “Good thing for you, eh?”
The heavy silence that fell between the driver and his passenger was punctured by the sound of wet chomps and crunching bone emanating from the back of the cab.
The itch in Death skull stopped, but the very fabric of reality now took up its cause.
“Scratch?” Death asked tentatively.
“Yes, child.”
“Old Scratch?”
“Who else you expecting?” the Devil, who appeared to be a smirking, smoking taxi driver, replied. The vehicle slowed to a stop next to Cleopatra’s Needle. “Now hurry up and spit it out. It’s time for you to leave.”
Death paused; it felt like eternity. Finally he asked, “Why?”
“Why?” Old Scratch puffed on his cigar, the shit-eating grin never leaving his face. “Why, Armageddon, little man. What did you think this is?”
Death was flummoxed. In his long existence, he had never been flummoxed before. It was a new sensation, but not one he’d ever longed for.
Old Scratch patted him on the head, then reached up to retrieve a folded piece of paper from behind the sun visor. “I got a letter last year, see,” he explained. He unfolded the page and glanced down at the childish writing on it. “From a sweet, innocent child. A touch dyslexic, but with the purest soul ever to inhabit a human body. What could I do?” He offered the letter to Death. “My heart just melted.”
Death took the letter from Old Scratch and began to read aloud: “’Dear Satan. My name is Molly and I have everything I will ever need. Can you please help everybody else in the world by ending hunger, pollution and war. This is my Christmas wish. Thank you. Molly Darling, age 6. P.S. I hope you are well.’”
“So considerate and polite,” Old Scratch sighed, taking the letter back.
All the stars in the heavens swirled furiously inside Death’s skull. He mentally grappled with the raging storm, searching for a handhold on his sanity. “War ended Pestilence and Famine, but War isn’t dead.”
“You sure? Can’t hear no breathing back there.”
Death swiftly unlocked his seatbelt and stood up on his seat. The plexiglass was no longer transparent, but smeared red with blood and gore. He pushed the dead fingers of Pestilence back through the slot and heard a splash as the severed hand they were attached to thudded to the floor of the taxi. Death peered through the gap and saw War lying naked and smoothly pale in the bloodbath. A chunk of half chewed greenish meat fell free from her lifeless lips.
“WooEE! That Pesto sure was ripe!” Old Scratch said, opening his window and flicking out ash from his cigar. “Bad meat. Never eat it. Always, always, insist on fresh.”
Death pulled away from the sight of the abomination in the back of the taxi and sat back down in his seat. “But how can it be Armageddon if War, Famine and Pestilence are gone?”
Old Scratch punched the numbers on the keyboard of the dashboard fare display. “With no hunger, there will be obesity, so humanity will become slovenly and fat, lazy and satisfied. No war means no competition, no goals to achieve, so mankind will lose its desire to better itself. And the elimination of pollution is a sure fire way of killing any human creativity. I give the species ten years, tops.”
“But there will be death,” Death whispered softly.
“Oh indeed, you’re still needed. You have a busy time ahead of you, little man. That’ll be six six six.”
Death snapped his head back to face the Devil in the driver’s seat. “What?”
Old Scratch laughed and pointed to the fare metre. “Six pounds, sixty six.” He gave a phlegmy cough and waved Death away. “Just kidding. For you, child, no charge,” he said gleefully.
*******
*Ah, that’s much better, Clicky… /stubs butt… Do try to keep clean…*
Interesting to think about the reach one may have beyond their cage(s). Who…or…what, provides the means, which allows the animals to become unrestrained.
The tools that become available due to certain circumstances arising. A cascade of cause and effect type events which are channeled into a particular eventuality.
EX A: If you are a cop/police officer/peace officer/whatever, and you get a citation or award of some kind, you can likely utilize/leverage that citation or award to your benefit for the remainder of your law enforcement career. A tool. A tool, for opening doors, previously closed to you.
EX B: If you are an employee of a company, and you work your way up the ladder, you can likely leverage both your ascendant tendencies and your position(s) in the hierarchy to better open doors previously closed to you. Never sick, great attendance, always on time, will choose work over family or social life, always trying to better yourself for the benefit of the company, not afraid of making enemies, indifferent to the woes of others, don’t care what others think of you…you’re going places and you know it because you’re proactively working to make things happen.
The metrics in that tweet above…only one of those books are familiar to me, and pretty sure it has at least something to do with the topic of “generational theory” (Behold A Pale Horse). Prolly why the tweet caught my eye in the first place. Generational theory has been appearing on my radar a lot recently, culminating in learning that this Bannon cat who is a wig at Breitbart is purported to be a frothy-mouthed lunatic on the subject.
Me? I know little to nothing about generational theory. I know it’s loaded with archetypes that label people and put them in categories, and it does the same with “turnings” as to what certain generations will do and why. It appears to be very cyclical, has a very Circadian Rhythm, Schumann Resonance, nature’s seasons type of vibe to it, a “time to every purpose under heaven” vibe to it, but it also has a long con/short con and “the old tricks are the best tricks” kind of vibe to it too. Overall, I can see its appeal. Has a “great plan” or even “greater good” kind of tone. Shows some big tumblers turning that were previously more or less invisible. Removes some veils. Provides some insight for those who choose to look.
^Ken Andrews – Perfect Days^
Let’s get back to those metrics in the tweet above, and think about vectors which point to certain spaces in space. But in order to find this space in space, let’s take a detour which may provide us with a bit of clarity as to our destination.
Our basis for discussing anything at this point, is channeling a someone or a something towards a particular eventuality. This is likely to be a “master/servant” type of exercise where one desires to assert dominance over another. In the tweet, someone reads a few books, certain nosy fuckers are out there snooping as to who is reading what, and when some critical mass is reached on both sides, an action will result.
Let’s us plumb the depths further as to what the tweet suggests will help one to attain this critical mass.
I think she or whoever made that image may have got that fourth book title a bit wrong. No biggie tho. I found the book referenced.
^The Amps – Pacer^
Fuck. I was wrong about Behold A Pale Horse being somehow connected with generational theory. Another detour is required in order to find out how in the hell I fucked that up. How I misassociated that particular book with that particular theory. Emphasis on the word “how”.
I’m thinking that’s as far as I need go to solve this particular mystery.
Mystery = SOLVED! Next?
^Jackal & Hyde – Bad Robot (Dominance Electricity) 2016^
Those who have been on the victim end of…erm…”certain deviations”, are unlikely to be inclined to play seduction games. They’re likely to be interested in the dynamics of relationships, sure. Especially the “text book” types of relationships: birds and bees; boy meets girl; go to school, get a job, get married, have kids, etc.. But seduction games?
Nah.
Short games are gonna be long-odds because they’ve previously been stung, and maybe even been stung more than once. Prolly gonna have to go long-con on that number.
^Inhale – Safe Me^
You know those birdie things that sometimes fly around in the sky?
You do?
Great, let’s keep going.
You know those fishy things that sometimes swim around in the sea?
You do?
Great, let’s keep going.
You know those animaly things that sometimes migrate around on the ground?
You do?
Great, let’s keep going.
You know that compass thing that points North?
You do?
Great, let’s keep going.
Welp, lemme see if I can muster a ray of sunshine for you fucks wandering around in the haze of your obsession with brainwashing. First, it is very unlikely that you are being brainwashed. You are more likely to be subjected to braindumping. They ain’t trying to clean your shit up because they’re too busy burying you in a glut of shit for you to try and sort. You’re drowning in it. “They” only need throw you bones, and you sort it of your own volition because you think it actually means something. When the shit don’t add up, you even think that means something. “There must be more.” And you likely self-deprecate, they ain’t gonna disagree with you, and now suddenly, you, just weren’t good enough, because they did not accept you.
Q: You ever tried accepting yourself?
A: How 'bout you give that a whirl.
Yeah, I know, it’s tough. There’s all these rules out there…all these expectations. We have to rely completely and totally on other human beings in order to find our place in the herd. There’s no other help available to us…just other humans.
So sad.
If only there were something, somewhere, that wasn’t humans or a something that is not even “human”. A something out there which gave me some direction. Gave me some bearings as to how I can find my own feet, and place my own feet on my own path. But alas…there is nothing.
So sad.
^Scott Pilgrim VS. The World Soundtrack – 06 I’m So Sad, So Very, Very Sad^
Speaking of utilizing what is right under your own fucking feet and using what is dangling over the top of that thick skull of yours in order better get your bearings, better keep your bearings, and better find your way…
Saw that tweet the other day and thought “yeah, I get ya, astrology is a cryptic crock of shit”…woah! Wait a fucking minute here!!! No…no, no, that’s…all fucking wrong. Wrong, wrong, and motherfucking WRONG!
Irrespective…
of your astrological sign…
the stars…
and planets…
will not…
affect your life…
in any way.
Holy hell…that couldn’t be more wrong, I thought to myself as I munched in an ever slowing pace on the most recent bite of my salad.
I put down my cellphone, which coincidentally contains many rare-earth elements, placed my metal fork into the ceramic salad bowl, swallowed the now masticated mess of salad I had been chewing, leaned back in my metal chair lined with a polyfiber and foam seat cushion, and looked up at the sun shining through a hole in the broken clouds hovering in the blue of the early afternoon sky. It wasn’t often that I treated myself to an outdoor lunch. And it occurred to me the strangeness in that of all days, today was the day I would bumble across a tweet where such clarity could be attained via a perfect set of circumstances.
Here I sat, on the surface of a planet, outside in the sun, which is a star, munching on a salad, which comes from this planet and is encouraged to do so and nurtured by the sun, and along comes this tweet implying that stars and planets have no effect, whatsoever, on my life. I leaned forward in my chair, folding my midriff somewhat in half whilst clasping my hands together and somewhat bowed my head just above the salad bowl resting on the table. My posture may have given an indication of prayer, but that’s not what was happening here. It didn’t feel that way to me anyway.
Confusion.
Confusion raced through my mind at the absolute clarity of seeing the ridiculousness of astrology…smashed, by the absurdity of truth. Or at least, a truth. This is not prayer although my body feels as if it is at prayer. Am I praying a confused prayer? Am I confused about how to pray a confused prayer? A “God? What in the bloody hell are you up to?” kind of prayer? No…it doesn’t feel like that. Not even a little.
Suddenly, my lips, almost involuntarily mumble a something…”The person who posted that…what, in the fuck, are they thinking?” My ears hearing my own voice somewhat snaps me out of my contemplative trance. “Are they thinking at all?”
^Throwing Muses – Not Too Soon (Official Video)^
BTW, most of that didn’t happen. Just taking a little artistic license with what actually did happen. In truth, I read the tweet, and simultaneously had two thoughts.
ONE: I can relate dude. Astrology, and certainly in its institutionalized form, is confusing as FUCK. Its linear. ‘Cept more like a blender that unchops things instead of chopping them. An assembly line where abstract bits and pieces of nonsense go in one end, and a completely assembled and operational something comes out the other, and only those who built the factory know how any of it works are capable of understanding the factory’s intricacies.
TWO: Dude, this chart is clever, funny, and completely fucking wrong. We live on a goddamn planet which is next to a star, and we are completely and totally dependent on both stars and planets for anything and everything that happens in our life. And if it weren’t for distant stars (and planets) virtually anything and everything that humans have developed would be a virtual impossibility. Or at least, extremely difficult and certainly much different than we do things now.
So yeah, knowing what you now know, which version do you prefer? Does it even matter? I told both versions, both are the same tale, same message, same events, same person/people, same truth(s).
^Pixies – Dig For Fire & Allison (Official Video)^
^New Order – True Faith (1987) (Official Music Video) [HD REMASTERED]^
*******
*Revelations galore, Clicky. Go get us a suitable Song to end with…*
We hope you’ve had a swell time reading Cade’s missive, Dear Reader. I’ll return on Saturday, to post my Underdog Anthology XII story, ‘What Time Do You Finish?’. Until then, have a Song 😀
Abernathyalgbomagaffylaughyasillytaffymanaffyagoogoosprinklealulubeginemyaspinnyforshimity.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.
Revelations are sweet
Hrm...
Library of Libraries 